Teddybear Suicide
by Mile
Summary: When a person from his father's past comes back to haunt him, Matthieu has to figure out a way to keep his parents' marriage together and keep his brother from killing their neighbor. What's a Canadian to do? Will contain Canada/Japan and France/England.
1. Prologue

**A Long Time Ago In A Galaxy Far, Far Away, The Author Was Shot For Being Uncreative.**

---AxM---

Once upon a time, in a place not so far away, there was a boy named Matthieu and his twin brother Alfred.

They had been abandoned as babies in the middle of the woods, where their adoptive parents Arthur and Francis found them. Their parents were both male and couldn't have children of their own, so they adopted the twins right away.

Of course Alfred and Matthieu were ridiculed growing up- for having two fathers, for being orphans- but they survived it. Their parents loved them and they were happy, and their childhood passed without too much trouble.

The trouble was lurking on the horizon, though, and would surface shortly after the twins' seventeenth birthday in the form of a boy named _Peter_…

---AxM---

A/N: About to post the first chapter. I don't know, I see so many Francis/Arthur fics where they're married and have Alfred and Matthieu as kids, so I wanted to divorce them.

That and I believe I'm acquiring a Sealand fetish.


	2. Chapter One

**In Which Matthieu Rediscovers His Self-Confidence Issues and Arthur Becomes A Hikikomori.**

---AxM---

Matthieu Bonnefoy-Kirkland yawned, stretching out his cramped muscles. At some point in the night his brother had crept into his bed and crowded it, but Matthieu didn't mind. He affectionately ruffled his twin's hair and smiled. While Alfred (full name Alfred Kirkland-Bonnefoy) was as loud as an air horn when he was awake, he was almost serene when he was asleep.

Being careful not to wake the hamburger-guzzler, he slipped quietly out of the room. After brushing his teeth (because he was the good child), Matthieu hurried downstairs to eat some of his Papa's infamous cooking. Unfortunately the kitchen lay past the living room.

That was the one room in the house Matthieu disliked with a passion. Not because it was poorly decorated, in fact it was fairly decent, but because of all it represented in his house lately. The smaller signs in that room meant trouble for the entire household.

As Matthieu passed through it, his eyes were drawn to the couch, and he flinched. A pillow and blanket rested there, forgotten and crumpled. Since his brother had been in Matthieu's bed last night and his Dad hardly ever got up anymore, this meant one clear thing.

His Papa had slept on the couch... again.

The man he called 'Papa' was a French chef named Francis Bonnefoy. Francis had worked as the night chef in a popular cafe downtown called Trattoria until six months ago. Cooking had been his lifelong passion, and it was a job he had relished. But he had suddenly quit with no notice, choosing to spend time out and about- usually alone- more often. Francis had always been a family man and always made sure that his boys were well taken care of, even when he himself was suffering. Now he just made them food and escaped as quickly as he could.

His 'Dad,' on the other hand, forgot they were alive as of late. Matthieu hadn't seen him in several days (his Dad was now a nocturnal creature and one had to lurk outside his door just to see his face.) But apparently that was acceptable when you were a writer- and Matthieu's Dad wasn't just any writer, he was Arthur Kirkland. One of the most famous British suspense writers in all of America! And it wasn't that his Dad had never shut himself in before, it was that the circumstances were worrying him.

---AxM---

Seven months ago, his Papa and his Dad had gotten in a huge fight. Both were stubborn and had gotten into fights before, but never to this magnitude, never to the point that they couldn't look each other in the eye without glaring and yelling. For the first month, they wouldn't tell their sons what was wrong, but one day their Papa sat them down to have a talk.

"_Mes précieux enfants_," he'd said, looking them each in the eye. "Arthur and I are having… difficulties."

"Obviously!" Alfred had snapped, and Matthieu remembered the angry drum of his brother's fingers on their dining room table. It was such a trivial thing to remember, but it had been so noticeable. Every tap had seemed one step closer to the truth they both wished for and dreaded. "But you won't tell us what they are!"

_Drum… Drum…_

"You aren't getting divorced, are you?" He had asked his Papa. His brother's fingers had frozen and then continued their drumming at a much more frantic pace. The man was silent and this scared them both. The twins had very different reactions to fear, however; Matthieu's developed into depression and Alfred's manifested into anger.

_Drum drum drum…_

"_Are_ you?"

_Drumdrumdrum drumdrumdrum…_

"…We don't know, _mon petit." _There was a trace of exhaustion in the Frenchman's voice, and closer inspection revealed that he hadn't shaved in several days. The hair that Francis was once so proud of was mussy and unkempt, and there were bags under his eyes. "_I _don't know, I really don't…"

"How do you not know?! Either you are or you aren't!" Alfred shouted, and his fists had struck the table violently. Matthieu flinched and had tried to put a comforting arm around his brother's shoulder, but it was just shrugged off and the yelling resumed. "You should always know--"

"Arthur cheated on me. He.. has another son, your half-brother."

The words hung the air like lead. None of them moved for several minutes. The air was tense with silent worries, fears, and regrets.

_Was I not a good enough son? Did something about me make Dad unhappy? So unhappy he would have to have an affair? _Matthieu worried, and mentally was going over each and every flaw in his personality and hating them all.

_What? Brother? Dad wouldn't do that. That's impossible! This has to be some kind of joke! Yeah, a joke? Because, because, this can't be real… Dad, Papa, they.. _Alfred mentally laughed it off, but his shoulders were shaking in fear.

Their Dad was watching them, having come in to retrieve a book just in time to hear Francis's confession. Feeling that they deserved a little more knowledge about their new brother, he elaborated.

"His name is Peter, and he's twelve…" Both of the twins looked at him blankly, which prompted him to continue. "He's--"

"At least save the discussion about him until I'm out of the room!" Francis shouted. He was livid as he jerked up from the seat and stormed out of the room, spinning around to glare at his husband. "_Dieu_! You have no respect!"

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry, you git?!" Arthur shouted, then glanced at the twins and lowered his voice. "Let's discuss this elsewhere…"

"_Non!" _The taller man had spat, clenching his fists. "_Non, non, non! _I am done with your lack of respect and this entire discussion!" His gaze flickered over to Matthieu for a minute and he sighed. The fists unclenched. "I am going out."

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked, crumbling and reaching an arm out to touch the Frenchman. But he was too slow. The other didn't notice his feeble gesture. "Francis?"

The only response he got was the slamming of a door. That sound marked the next six months of Matthieu's life as a hell he wouldn't forget for the rest of his life.

---AxM---

As Matthieu stepped into the kitchen, trying to shake away the memories, he noticed the phone on the counter was ringing. He looked around to find two plates of tinfoil-covered food, one labeled 'Alfred' and one labeled 'Matthieu' (but none for Dad, he noted.) The room was empty and the only sound was the steady _brrring brrring brrring _of the phone- Francis was long gone.

Feeling disappointed, he picked up the phone and put on his most cheerful voice.

"Bonnefoy-Kirkland residence, how may I help you?" Matthieu chirped, dishing out the food for himself and his brother.

"Alfred-kun, _aru_? Can you come over right now? Or is this Matthew-san, _aru_?" The person on the other end asked. Right away the (self-proclaimed) Canadian knew who it was. It was none other than his friend Kiku Honda's cousin, Yao Wang. Yao had the habit of adding 'aru' to the ends of his sentences without even realizing it.

"Ah, this is Matthieu. What's up, Yao?" He asked. "Should I wake up Alfred for you? I think he's still out..."

"No, no, it doesn't matter which one of you it is, _aru! _I just need one of you, _aru!"_

There was an edge of panic to his voice that concerned Matthieu.

"What happened?" The blonde asked, trying project calmness into his voice.

"Kiku got stuck in a tree, _aru_! He won't let me help him, _aru_!" Yao yelled, and Matthieu could practically picture his arms flailing around like crazy. He sighed, rubbing his forehead, and came to a decision.

"I'll be right over."

---AxM---

A/N: So! I have had the flu for the past few days (again) and I dished this out. There will be Matthieu/Kiku because I love that pairing now...

And I'm debating Gilbert/Roderich. Is that a good idea or not? I happen to like them.. A lot.


End file.
